


And I Love Her So, I Wouldn't Trade Her for Gold

by divine_dissatisfaction



Series: Tell the Saint of Lost Souls Where to Find Me [2]
Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, that's it that's the whole fic, this is 2.3k words of gwen being a Soft Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29903820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divine_dissatisfaction/pseuds/divine_dissatisfaction
Summary: The morning after their first night together, Gwendolyn reflects on her life, and how Mildred has slotted herself into it.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Series: Tell the Saint of Lost Souls Where to Find Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014915
Comments: 20
Kudos: 53





	And I Love Her So, I Wouldn't Trade Her for Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> It's been a while, for which I apologise, but I gotta say I've been in a big big funk recently with my writing. For a while I've wanted to write a part two of my first Ratched fic ("I Love You, Do You Hear Me etc." I wouldn't say you absolutely had to read that one to get this one, but if you want to, I won't stop you ;)) and here it is!
> 
> Where part 1 is from Mildred's point of view, this one will be from Gwen's point of view, hence why they're two separate fics. What follows is fluffiness, brief references to the Sexy Times, and more fluffiness. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (fic title is from "Gold" from Once, it is an exquisite song pls go listen to it - particularly the a capella version)

Gwendolyn awoke on her back, warm. She screwed her eyes closed as they ached in the bright sunlight beaming through the windows, before opening them as wide as they would go. With a fierce yawn, she rolled over to her left side and was greeted with the sight of Mildred’s bare back. She blinked a couple of times, still hazy with sleep, before the events of the night before returned to her. She nibbled on her lower lip, a pleasant tension twisting its way into the bottom of her belly. She brought her hands up to her pillow, palm to palm as if in prayer, and rested her cheek on top of them. She let out a quiet, pleased sigh. Warm images flickered through her mind, sounds of desperate gasps and whispers, Mildred’s body trembling beneath her as she brought her to the precipice and carried her over it. She remembered the look of hesitant determination etched into Mildred’s face as the woman had crawled on top of her and allowed her to place her hand over her own to pull it down her body, and settle it oh so sweetly between her thighs.

The woman shivered, a warm blush coloring her cheeks. She almost laughed. Her bedfellow slept on, punctuating the cool morning air around them with soft, quick breaths. Gwendolyn traced her eyes over the expanse of her back, taking in the splatters of freckles dotted over her shoulder blades. With the sheets tucked securely under Mildred’s right arm, Gwendolyn’s view was restricted to the top of her back only. But the older woman hardly minded this. The night before had allowed her to see Mildred, really see her. Mildred had let her in, had trusted her enough to be vulnerable. For the first time, Gwendolyn had been able to peek through the cracks in that austere and seemingly impenetrable shell that Mildred had built around herself, as protection from a world she had come to expect would be cruel to her. She had looked inside and had seen that what was inside was golden.

Gwendolyn looked at the woman’s right shoulder, as it slowly rose and fell with each of her breaths, and noticed goosebumps rising across its surface. _She’s cold_. She almost reached out to run her hands over it, to warm the woman’s skin, but stopped herself. Even after everything, she did not wish to touch her when she hadn’t been given express permission. They loved each other, they had established that in words, and in hushed whispers into the other’s skin as they became so inextricably tangled in one another in the dark; with Mildred sleeping soundly mere inches away from her, they were physically separated now, and yet – Gwendolyn realized as she turned her face towards the pillow – they were even more tangled than before. Intertwined like the roots of two trees. She was hesitant to do anything that could damage what they’d built. This love was fragile, tentative as a fledgling perched at the edge of its nest, unsure of whether to leap into the air and trust its wings or remain in relative safety amongst the branches and twigs.

Mildred turned over then, eyes still closed. She chirruped in her sleep, like a contented cat, and Gwendolyn grinned. The younger woman faced her, hunched over with her arms raised in front of her chest as if shielding herself. She frowned a little and then sighed. Gwendolyn looked at her, at the way her hands curled in front of her face, at the way her eyelids twitched, at the way the corner of her mouth quirked. _I love her._

She could have lain there all morning, cocooned in the little nest they’d created. But, alas, nature was calling her, so she gingerly peeled the covers away from her and slid out of bed. She plucked her bathrobe from where she kept it hung on the back of the bedroom door and wrapped it around herself as she padded across the carpet towards the en-suite in the corner of the room. She glanced over her shoulder once more at Mildred’s sleeping form before stepping into the bathroom.

Once she’d attended to the matter, she washed her hands and then her face, inspecting her reflection in the mirror. She tutted at her mussed hair, running her fingertips through the reddish-blonde curls to rid them of knots. Then, she brought her fingertips up to her mouth, recalling how Mildred had kissed her, had pressed her lips against hers as if they were water and she was parched. She grinned again.

When she stepped back out of the bathroom, she saw Mildred – perhaps roused by the sound of the toilet flushing or the water running from the tap – rolling over in the bed and stretching her arms above her head.

‘Good morning,’ Gwendolyn greeted, wrapping her arms around herself as she sidled towards the other woman.

Mildred yawned, hauling herself to a vaguely upright position and tugging the sheets upwards to cover herself.

‘Good morning,’ she responded. Her voice was soft, almost shy.

‘You slept well?’ Gwendolyn said, phrasing the statement more like a question, stepping right up to the bed and smoothing her hand over the rumpled sheets. Mildred bent her knees to bring them up to her chest, giving Gwendolyn room to sit down.

‘I think that’s the best sleep I’ve had in – well, the best sleep I’ve had,’ Mildred murmured, looking up at Gwendolyn through her eyelashes.

The two women’s eyes met then, and they giggled.

‘How do you feel?’ Gwendolyn asked, tilting her head.

Mildred leaned forward to rest her chin on top of her knees, wrapping her arms around her shins.

‘Good,’ she answered, a small smile flickering at the corners of her mouth.

‘Good,’ Gwendolyn parroted, reaching forward with one hand. She hovered it at the side of the woman’s face for a moment, and when she didn’t pull away, she ran the backs of her fingers gently over her cheek. Mildred leaned into the touch, eyes flickering closed again. She sighed. Gwendolyn felt it against the palm of her hand.

‘Can I get you anything? Water?’ she asked, working quite hard to string her words together.

Mildred took Gwendolyn’s hand in her own, gently, holding it so she could run her thumb over her knuckles.

‘I could eat,’ she said.

Gwendolyn nodded, then looked as Mildred lifted her chin from her knees, and leaned towards her. She mirrored the action, closed the gap, and closed her eyes just before Mildred pressed their lips together. It was soft, warm. A promise.

‘Okay then,’ Gwendolyn breathed when they pulled away, ‘I’ll make us some breakfast.’

The older woman stood up then, and began to walk towards the door, reluctantly letting go of Mildred’s hand.

‘Um, Gwendolyn?’

Gwendolyn turned back to look at Mildred. The woman sat demurely, hands resting on top of her knees.

‘I left my bag downstairs,’ she said.

Gwendolyn nodded.

‘With my nightclothes in it.’

‘Oh.’

Gwendolyn chuckled, stepping over to her chest of drawers and opening the top one. She pulled out a set of teal-colored, polka-dotted pajamas and tossed them to Mildred.

‘You can wear those.’

Mildred nodded gratefully, pulling the pajamas towards her and running gentle fingers over the silk.

With that settled, Gwendolyn walked out of the room and down the stairs towards the kitchen. She felt a pleasant quiver in her stomach that she couldn’t be sure wasn’t purely down to hunger. The image of Mildred wearing her pajamas was a very nice one indeed.

* * *

Gwendolyn worked quickly in the kitchen, whisking up some eggs with salt and pepper and pouring them into a waiting frying pan. She put two slices of bread to toast under the grill, then boiled a kettle on the stovetop for coffee. Her hands trembled as she went, from nerves or from excitement she couldn’t be sure; Mildred was by no means the first woman she’d taken as a lover. But she was the first woman who she had taken into her home, and that immediate layer of domesticity brought with it a certain amount of… pressure, perhaps.

Any rendezvous with the fairer sex she’d had previously had been in neutral locations, a motel somewhere, where they could spend the night and then say their goodbyes and move on with their lives. Now, Mildred was inside her house. She was inside her house and wearing her pajamas. Gwendolyn frowned as she poked the eggs around the frying pan. She wondered what would happen next. Where did they go now? She had been all set to phone the realtors today and see about putting the house on the market. She had a half-packed suitcase in the front room, which she had intended to take with her to Connecticut to move back in with her mother.

None of that, she supposed, would happen now.

But, Gwendolyn thought, she had never really wanted any of that anyway.

A set of soft footsteps announced Mildred’s entry to the kitchen, and Gwendolyn turned to face her. The woman was dressed in her pajamas, hands twitching at her sides. Her face was scrubbed clean, and she’d brushed her hair so it sat loosely about her shoulders. Her brow furrowed as she yawned into the back of her hand.

She was the most beautiful thing Gwendolyn had ever seen.

‘Hey,’ she said, smiling, reaching a hand to her.

Mildred stepped towards her and took the offered hand between both of her own.

‘Alright? Gwendolyn asked her, trying to simultaneously look at Mildred and at the eggs (and not quite managing it).

‘Yes,’ Mildred replied.

The two women looked at each other a moment, the warm silence shortly interrupted by the kettle screeching.

Gwendolyn came back to herself, flinching.

‘Could you see to the coffee? I’ll see to the eggs,’ she said, ‘The mugs are in the cupboard above the sink.’

Mildred nodded, letting go of Gwendolyn’s hands so she could do as she asked.

The two women sat down to breakfast together then, eating mouthfuls of egg and toast between sips of coffee. Gwendolyn kept her free hand in her lap, running the pad of her middle finger over her thumbnail, back and forth.

‘How are the eggs?’ she asked, after a few moments of silence.

Mildred blinked at her as she swallowed.

‘They’re good, thank you,’ she replied, with a small smile.

‘Good. That’s – that’s good.’

‘Are you alright, Gwendolyn?’

The older woman shifted in her seat as she considered the question. She balled her free hand up into a fist, clenching and unclenching it, then placed her hand flat against the top of her thigh. She took a breath.

‘What’s going to happen now, Mildred?’

Mildred, who had been taking a sip of coffee, brought her mug back down to the table. She looked, unblinkingly, into Gwendolyn’s eyes.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well – are we – are you, and me -’

‘Gwendolyn?’

‘What happened last night was – it was…’

She floundered to think of a way to describe it. Her mouth twitched around the beginnings of words as she flicked through every possible adjective in the English lexicon, every superlative, and found none that would fit. Nothing even came close. She shook her head, and looked again at Mildred, and noticed her stiffen.

‘It was everything, Mildred. It was everything.’

Mildred flushed and looked down at the crumbs on her empty plate.

‘But – what I need to know is,’ Gwendolyn let out a sharp sigh as she willed her usually quick mind to bring back her coherency, ‘Did you mean what you said?’

The younger woman looked up at her, head tilting slightly to one side.

‘About us having a life together?’ Gwendolyn clarified, feel a nervous twinge in her stomach as she remembered what this life would involve, ‘Because, I want that with you, Mildred. I do.’

Mildred’s eyes were wide, glassy.

‘I want that too,’ she replied, voice light and quivering, ‘I love you.’

She sounded almost child-like, her shoulders hunched forward. For all that had passed between them, the lies Mildred had told in service to her brother, the truths she had kept hidden behind an icy facade, Gwendolyn believed her now. She believed her. She offered a hand across the table, and Mildred took it.

‘I love you too.’

Mildred looked at her and gave her a small, nervous smile.

‘Can I stay?’ she asked.

Gwendolyn thought of everything that was wrapped up in that one word, everything that was to come with Mildred’s brother, and her cancer. _Stay_.

‘Of course,’ she said, ‘Yes.’

When the women walked back through the living room to go back upstairs and dress for the day, they passed Gwendolyn’s suitcase, still open and half-filled with clothes.

Mildred paused as she looked at it, at each neatly folded shirt.

‘I should put those things away,’ Gwendolyn said with a nervous laugh.

‘Can _you_ stay?’ Mildred asked her quietly.

‘Yes, Mildred,’ Gwendolyn said, taking her hand and squeezing it, ‘I can. I will.’

With that, she leaned forward and snapped the suitcase closed with her free hand, pulling it off the chair and carrying it as the women walked out of the room. Mildred picked up her bag from where she’d dropped it in the hall the night before, and then let Gwendolyn lead her up the stairs towards her bedroom. Or, she supposed, their bedroom.

That was it, now. This house had now become their home. Mildred had somehow slotted herself into it, the final piece in a puzzle Gwendolyn hadn’t even realized she’d been trying to put together. And while their respective lives were filled with turmoil, like the brewing of a storm when it rumbles in the distance, somehow far away and yet so, so near, she somehow didn’t fear it. They had started to create a home together, a shelter, a sanctuary. Not of bricks and mortar, but of promises and devotions.

Whatever lay ahead, they would face it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, come find me on Twitter @LauraKatharineX and Tumblr laura-katharine ❤️


End file.
